Chapter 31
A New Piano Teacher
“Phew…”
Anze’s hands, which had been moving swiftly over the keys, came to an abrupt stop.
Annoyance crept into his gaze as he looked down at his own hands.
It was not a lie when he had protested to Lady Riena that he had memorized the sheet music. The problem was that his hands still refused to follow his mind.
Anze, staring at the faint red lines on the back of his hands, shifted his gaze to the massive piano in front of him.
The black surface of the grand piano gleamed, spotless, without a speck of dust.
With such a magnificent piano…
And yet, his playing was at this level.
A bitter smile crossed Anze’s lips as he recalled the shabby old piano his father had picked up from the street during his childhood.
Its paint was chipped here and there, and several keys didn’t make a sound because the strings were broken. Despite this, Anze’s father had gone to the trouble of hiring laborers to bring the abandoned piano home, knowing how much his wife, Siena, loved music.
Even with a few silent keys, Siena’s playing was always wonderful.
For Anze, who had never heard the original compositions properly, every piece his mother played felt magical and enchanting.
Siena’s piano lessons, which began when Anze was learning to read, continued until the piano could no longer produce sound.
It had been quite some time, but given that the piano was broken and couldn’t sound properly, Anze’s own skills might have comparable gaps.
Yet, Siena’s desire to raise Anze as a noble lady of a distinguished marquis family was genuine.
Bloodline… what a joke. That ruthless old man never even looked for his child until before he died.
His parents had always referred to him respectfully as “Grandfather,” and young Anze had followed suit. But since recovering memories from his past life, he had seen no need to utter the name.
Still, sometimes he wondered: what kind of man could abandon his own child and yet prosper without a care?
Some said the wealthy and prestigious Marquis Crow had everything except luck with children, but… really?
If there’s anything more important than fate, it’s the heart.
Babies born at the same time and date don’t all live the same lives. Fate is like a book. Even if two people read the same book, they interpret it differently; similarly, even identical fates can diverge based on the heart’s imagery.
No matter how great the blessings one is born with, a parent who ignores a dying child because the child does not satisfy their heart is destined for ruin.
This is simply the cold judgment of a student of fate.
Grandfather, my foot…
Twisting his lips with eyes lowered, Anze pressed a key randomly with his hand.
The jarring, discordant sound struck his ears, and he sighed deeply once more.
The banquet was just around the corner.
Although the duke had acted on his own authority, he couldn’t simply leave things as they were—after all, it was a wager involving an entire grand port city.
Me winning first place in the vote and becoming Lady of the Year? Impossible from the start.
Anze’s expression turned grim in an instant, all motivation drained, as he stared at the piano.
The ladies at Mariana’s tea party had all been stunningly beautiful. Among them, Hildegard had been particularly dazzling.
And yet… here he was.
Anze’s eyes met his reflection in the glass.
Thanks to Josh and the tireless work of the other servants over the past week, his black hair now had a shine he had never seen before, and the dark shadows beneath his eyes had noticeably diminished.
And this dress…
A mischievous smile curved Anze’s lips as he looked at the deep violet-blue dress that matched his black hair perfectly.
Recently, when the grand duchess called upon the dressmaker, she had shuddered upon seeing Anze’s black, practical attire.
“Such a horrific devil’s creation should vanish from the world.”
Elliot, who had devised and commissioned the “devil’s dress” specifically for Anze, looked displeased. Madam Charles, the dressmaker, immediately ordered Anze to remove the dress.
She then went to the trouble of tearing the dress to pieces and stuffing it into a trash bin.
Anze shook his head silently as he looked at the mangled garment in her hands.
It’s fine—I have five more just like it.
Madam Charles, unaware of Anze’s circumstances, beamed triumphantly.
“Bring in all the prepared dresses.”
At her clap, the attendants lined up and brought in the dresses.
“We prepared these hastily because of the urgency. Proper dresses will be made after taking exact measurements, but for now, please make do.”
Surely he didn’t have to try all of them on…
Seeing the numerous dresses, Anze’s complexion had already turned pale. Who knew choosing a dress could be more exhausting than gathering intelligence?
The beautiful dress he wore now was one of the ones he had selected that day.
Still, it felt unnatural, as if it wasn’t his own. Even though it was tailored to fit perfectly, it felt like he was wearing someone else’s clothes.
Maybe it’s natural, given my temporary false identity.
Shrugging, Anze placed his hands on the keys to practice. Night was deepening, and there was no time for idleness.
Recalling Josh’s nagging about how proper sleep was essential for good skin, Anze hurriedly turned the sheet music page.
“Waltz of Midsummer.”
Practice felt no better than when Lady Riena had scolded him.
Unlike the first time, which had been tolerable, now the piece felt tedious, refusing to flow as he wished.
After a brief pause, Anze’s hands deviated from the plan and began playing the gavotte.
The gavotte was a dance piece long taught by his mother, Siena.
At imperial banquets, the gavotte was traditionally danced in pairs, ending with a kiss.
His parents had fallen in love after dancing a gavotte together, exchanging a fleeting kiss.
The music flowed smoothly from his fingertips, familiar as water.
A smile appeared on Anze’s lips as he imagined his young, carefree parents twirling around the ballroom, focusing solely on each other.
Perhaps it would have been better if their connection had ended with a simple dance, without falling in love. He wouldn’t have been born, but that didn’t matter.
The lively notes gradually shifted to a delicate, lyrical mood.
Carefully pressing the final keys, now familiar, Anze finally exhaled in relief.
“Who taught you piano?”
Startled, Anze rose from his seat, though he had felt the gaze on him since midway through the piece.
“The Grand Duchess.”
“Enough. Just stay.”
Grand Duchess Elena waved her hand, dismissing Anze’s attempt at formal courtesy.
The gavotte was also familiar to her. She remembered laughing as she and Siena danced the gavotte clumsily when she first learned it.
Now, that was a long time ago. Siena had passed away unnoticed, and Anze was grown.
Regret passed through the wrinkles around Elena’s eyes.
“Joseph said you’ll need a new piano teacher.”
She recalled the chaos when Lady Riena had barged in, crying and wailing, and frowned.
“I apologize. It’s entirely my fault.”
“No, no. Don’t blame yourself.”
Despite her words, Elena had intended to reprimand Anze.
Lady Riena was acquainted with her and, though arrogant and easily excitable, could be useful. For instance, spreading rumors about people she disliked.
Such women are common in high society, after all.
“So who did you learn piano from? I hear there was no reason to hire a separate teacher, which is why I summoned Lady Riena myself.”
Repeating her earlier question, Elena clicked her tongue, ignoring the minor commotion earlier in the evening.
“I’m truly sorry about Lady Riena. I learned piano from my mother.”
“Hmm, your mother must have liked the gavotte.”
“I’ve heard it was a popular piece when she was young. She and her friend would play it daily and dance ridiculously while laughing.”
Recalling his mother, Anze faintly smiled before quickly bowing in apology.
“I apologize for speaking unnecessarily to Your Grace.”
“No, no. Not unnecessary. As your mother said, back then this piece was played everywhere. At imperial banquets, it was often the first piece performed. Ending it with a kiss was customary; usually, it was danced with an engaged partner, but exceptions existed.”
Was it an illusion, or did the elderly Duchess’s cheeks flush as she looked down at the keys?
She softly smiled and placed her hand on the piano keys.
